


it's everything he wants

by rocketsfindplanets



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:12:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketsfindplanets/pseuds/rocketsfindplanets
Summary: five times jack doesn’t say enough, and one time he does.





	it's everything he wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> as i said on tumblr.. "i was writing a thing for my good pal esketitttt, got distracted, and wrote this real quick other thing for my good pal esketitttt.. this is my life now"

i.

by the time connor comes back, jack is already falling asleep, curled up into the thick, white hotel duvet.

connor crawls in beside him and pulls him close. jack just groans and presses up against him, the heat suffocating. it's easier to focus on that than how in less than a week, they're going to get drafted.

connor will go first, and he will go second. how it was always meant to be, right?

he prefers it like this, he thinks. just the two of them and a hotel room. no reporters asking about edmonton and buffalo. (at least buffalo is close to home.)

"i shouldn't stay," he mumbles against a pillow, though moving sounds impossible.

he feels connor tighten his grip on him. "why? nobody will ever know."

and he's right, probably. jack thinks for a long moment before he sighs. "yeah."

"just get some rest, i'll get you up in the morning."

jack is hardly listening anymore. connor's hair is still damp, and he can feel it, just barely, as connor's lips brush against the back of his neck. he melts into the sensations, how connor feels, how the blanket feels, how warm and almost  _loved_  he feels.

he knows he'll be sore tomorrow, but it's worth it.

he lets himself fall asleep for real, this time, wrapped up in the idea that he could have this. it’s quiet, and it’s everything he wants.

in the morning, he pretends not to be awake just so he can revel in it a little bit longer.

 

ii.

“the edmonton oilers would like to select with their first pick, from the erie otters, connor mcdavid.”

how it was always meant to be.

going first and second means a lot of being together, a lot more interviews about each other, and it means buffalo, buffalo, buffalo. jack is already sick of buffalo and he isn't even there, yet.

they don't talk about it, they don't really talk at all.

jack makes a bitter comment about connor spending the day with his boy toy, and nobody but noah hears. saying it still makes him feel better, for reasons he can't quite understand. he's going to buffalo. it's fine.

 

iii.

jack speaks before he thinks, sometimes. it’s going to get him in trouble one day, people tell him. this time, he doesn’t care.

“no, we’re not friends,” he says. “i don’t have his number,” he says.

when it goes public and the articles are put out, he gets a text from connor, because, well. nobody’s perfect.

_Not friends?_

jack replies,  _Ive told worse lies_

and then he adds,  _We could be friends if you want_

he laughs when he thinks about it. the idea of being friends with connor mcdavid is something so absurd, it was hard for him to even consider. fucking before the draft was one thing. they’ve barely talked since then, though. talking is easier when it’s late and he’s just been fucked within an inch of his life.

he wishes, vaguely, that he didn’t want to. that he didn’t want to be his friend.

but friend sounds so much better than rival, and jack isn’t sure he can go the rest of his career getting asked about connor, about edmonton. (he knows he will, anyway. but surely it will be easier if they don’t actually hate each other. he doesn’t hate connor. he wanted to, once, but he doesn’t think he ever really did.)

_Idk. friends with benes yeah_

it’s supposed to be a joke. if it was noah, or auston, or literally anybody else he knows, they would know it’s a joke.

_You want that?_

when connor finally texts back, he doesn’t think he knows it’s a joke. he makes a call.

“oh my god, mcdavid,” he says.

“what?”

“i don’t mind if we fuck, okay. but i really do want to… to try being your friend, okay? we can try.”

jack wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

 

iv.

it never really catches on, and come february, connor reaffirms as much.

jack doesn’t like reading media on them but he does anyway, because of course he wants to see what’s being said about him. especially if it’s being said by edmonton’s saviour himself.

“we'll have to become a little bit closer,” connor says.

he also says that he doesn’t see him as a rival, and jack gets that. he’s glad they’re on the same page. he wishes all of the journalists could catch up. he wishes, but he isn’t naive enough to think it can happen. he’s living in the era of mcdavid, this is his life.

_Fellow young guy? original_

jack can’t remember the last time they talked about something other than an interview. because they do talk, about hockey. he wants more.

when he’s talking to connor, all he wants is to forget about hockey. it feels so close, so  _right there_ , but at the same time, connor always feels so far away.

connor doesn’t text back for a while, and when he does, it’s only to say,  _Well, it’s true. Would you prefer enemy or rival?_

something about the response frustrates jack, and he doesn’t answer. “i wouldn’t text him or anything like that,” connor says, and jack wishes it were true, a little bit.

he doesn’t know what he wants. he wants connor and he wants connor to disappear and he wants the world cup of hockey to be over with already.

he doesn’t answer, and connor doesn’t text him again.

 

v.

they’re playing for the same team.

connor is his captain.

they’re playing for the same team, and for once, there are no expectations on either of them. if they win a game, they’re already doing more than people said they would. jack is weirdly okay with that.

he’s used to pressure. he’s used to be better, be better, be better. he’s not used to being on some fake team so that canada and america don’t have to scratch any of their real players.

the two of them click, on the ice. it makes jack imagine what could have been.

he tries not to think about it because it’s not possible, it’s never going to happen. connor’s an oiler and he’s a sabre, and he doesn’t really think that’s going to change.

jack hugs him after a nice play, tells him he had a good game, does all of that shit.

they joke around with each other on the way to games like teammates do.

he imagines, and he keeps his mouth shut.

 

\+ i.

jack speaks before he thinks, sometimes.

this time, he’s thought a lot. enough.

team north america wins two of their games, which isn’t enough, and it feels almost like a joke. he tries to convince himself he didn’t care about the world cup in the first place.

hockey isn’t all he’s thought about, though. when your team only plays three games, there’s finally time to think about something else.

“connor.”

not mcjesus, not mcdavid, not any of the other things he could call him. just. connor.

connor stops and turns to look at him, a bit tense. jack wishes it weren’t like that. he wishes connor could just fucking look at him, without expecting an insult or whatever.

(it’s his fault, he knows. he made it that way. because trying to hate connor has always been his only option, and that’s so fucking dumb. for once in his life, he just wants to be in control. he wants this to be his. he wants, he wants so bad it hurts.)

“i… i’m sorry.”

it’s different.

jack has a lot of pride, and it takes a lot for him to swallow that down and do something like apologise, especially to somebody like connor. (he wants to stop thinking that way, but he’s not sure he can. connor is special. to hockey, to edmonton, to him.)

“for what?” connor asks, slow. careful.

“everything?” he doesn’t know what else to say. “i’ve been a dick to you, and. i think we should try being friends.”

this isn’t new. face-to-face is new, he supposes.

when connor smiles, he can’t describe the relief he feels. it’s almost a smirk, but it’s not hurt, or disgust, or any of a million other things. “friends with benefits?”

jack chokes. “i hate you,” he says. he doesn’t mean it.

“trust me, i know.” connor says. he pauses, wavering a bit. “i don’t know if we can be friends.”

“why?” jack is too quick to ask.

“you think it would work?”

“i think it could. you want to have to hate each other for the rest of our lives or whatever?”

connor sighs, and jack knows he gets it.

that’s never really been the problem, though. they’ve always both gotten it. but edmonton and buffalo are so far, and they play for different teams, and it’s just not possible. it’s always been easy for jack to tell himself that. he knows it’s bullshit.

“you remember the draft?” he asks, and connor breathes out a laugh.

“yes?”

jack rolls his eyes. “you know.”

“yeah. no, i know.”

“okay.” jack thinks, for a moment. “i wanted to stay there forever, you know? i was happy. just… not thinking about hockey.”

connor’s voice drops into a low whisper. “and here i thought it was because it was good sex?”

jack feels a bit of colour rush into his cheeks, and he laughs. “that, too. i’m serious, though. i want to try this. i’m going to. for real, this time.”

“i believe you.”

it takes him back, a bit. “why?” he asks. connor has no reason to believe him, because he’s kind of been a dick to him, like he said.

connor smiles, soft. “come on, jack. i’ve always believed in you.”

jack swallows hard, lets out a little, “oh.” he doesn’t know how to respond to that, and even if he did, he’s not sure he could get the words out.

“so, we can try this?” connor asks, when jack doesn’t say anything.

jack nods. “please.”

connor smiles again, and that’s enough. he thinks, for once, that he might have said the right thing. that he might have said enough.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment if u love me.. check me out on tumblr also @ tylerparsons ily :**


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